


A Feudal Legend

by verymerrysioux



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Demons, Gen, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24546343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verymerrysioux/pseuds/verymerrysioux
Summary: Switch the characters, tweak the story, change the world. Triforce to jewels, goddesses to demons, heroes to demons, and demons to more demons. There's a lot of demons. And time travel.It starts with one demon lord, who's reputation is one of a cold and fierce deity, and his half-demon half-brother.Inspired by the Linked Universe AU
Relationships: Time & Twilight (Linked Universe)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	A Feudal Legend

**Author's Note:**

> It's an Inuyasha AU.
> 
> Similar with the [Ranma AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24467806) fic, I'm putting this as unfinished because I'll plop any Inuyasha AU-related works here.
> 
> Damn I've been writing a lot, the heck.
> 
> No beta, I die like Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha's dad.

Her son confronts her the night before the final battle. He asks, with cold eyes and a colder voice, if she will not change her decision.

"Yes," she answers, looking over the lands she swore to protect. She knows he doesn't mean her confrontation with Demise. She has been asked, again and again, if she will truly keep her child. And always, again and again, she will say yes.

There are risks. She knows this. She had carried her eldest child in the middle of the war, when she had more enemies than allies. She had fought then too. She knows how much her body can take.

(But it had not been against their general, their lord and king, the demon that started this war.)

"Very well." Her eldest son glances at the swords on her hip. "Will you be leaving them to me?"

She turns to look at her son. "Do you have so little faith in my strength that you demand my will before I die?" She asks softly, disapproval masking her sorrow. "Do you think I will fall?"

"You will win," he states, no hesitance in his voice. He sees this as truth. She is cunning and fierce in ways that not even Demise can fathom. "But battle will not be the one that breaks your body."

Silence.

"This war will end," she declares, turning back. She sees the lands and imagines her child walking through the roads and fields without war in their mind. "I will make it so."

She can't raise a child of war again. To let them cover their heart with ice, to praise the trail of blood they leave, to tell them that emotions are frivolous. Something to ignore (and in the heat of battle, where guilt could paralyze and kill you, it felt logical to teach that to her only son). 

There was a time before Demise, where the closest thing to war were merely skirmishes for land and prestige. Not a fight for survival. She wants that back. For her unborn child's sake (it is too late for her eldest, but maybe, just maybe he can have time to be fixed).

She touches her stomach and smiles. She wonders if her child will laugh like their father, or if they'll have his toothy grin (and if they do, she can imagine the charm increase tenfold with fangs). She wonders if she can do this right this time.

To want a child that is friendly, that knows love and kindness. To want a child that will keep that spirit as they grow up.

There was a time her eldest child had been kind, sweet, and thoughtful, eyes full of love. There was a time she could comb his silky hair and fix his downy feathers with ease as she had once done with his father. There was a time he had laughed, carefree and happy, and she should have fought for that laugh instead of glory and strength.

Her son is cold and ruthless, a perfect killer. She knows it is by her hand, knows this is what she had wanted centuries ago. And even after all these years of accepting her mistakes, her biggest regret, she still yearns. Still wonders on what if. 

She still longs for the little boy that wasn't tainted with cruelty and death.

And so she asks her son a question, one that aches in her weary bones.

* * *

_Do you have someone that you love?_

He had scoffed then, wondered if her tryst with the human lord had made her soft. Whimsical. Love was a useless thing to have, a weakness an enemy could exploit. 

He has no time for that drivel.

_And yet here you are,_ a voice whispers. Soft and young. His. _Walking in human territory, looking for her._

Ridiculous, he shoots back. He's here merely to check if the child she birthed won't be an embarrassment to their clan. Nothing more. 

If his strides are longer and faster, then it is because the stench of blood and smoke burns his nose, the screams of the humans grate on his ears, and he wants to get away from these nuisances as soon as possible.

The hallway to her room is painted with blood. Corpses lying on the floor. Furniture broken and scattered. He pays no mind to one human who aims a clumsy swing at him, he smells death on that one, hardly a threat to him. 

Sliding the door open, he catches the kunai thrown at him with two fingers. Unfazed by the red-eyed glare of one of the humans in the room. He walks towards the futon his mother is lying on.

"You came," she murmurs, surprise in her tired voice. The scent of blood and sweat clings to her skin, a contrast to the heavy stench of human blood outside. "Would you like to see your brother?"

She brings up the bundle of red cloth on her hands. Her question more like a command. He says nothing, kneeling down and looking at the child. The human midwife glances at him nervously, hands twitching. The human guard has her arm poised on her naginata, eyes never leaving him.

He pays them no mind.

"He's not crying," he notes, looking at the tiny scrunched up face. The baby has none of his mother's coloration. Tan skin and brown hair instead of her milky white and pale gold. He sees a furry set of ears peeking out from the fluff of dark hair on the baby's head.

"He tired himself out after a while," she replies, adjusting her grip. "Isn't he beautiful?"

He reminds him of a shriveled nut, but he has enough grace to keep that comment to himself. "And what are you to do with him?" He asks blandly.

His mother is no fool, she must know that her lover is dead, and it would be ridiculous to stay in a land so compromised. An attack like this was planned. 

And she must smell her body bleeding out and dying, she must feel it by now. Her arms are trembling by holding one little babe.

She hums, stroking the cheek of her baby tenderly. He feels embarrassment at the blatant display of emotion. Vulnerable. Weak. Perhaps the last indulgence of one who is dying. "Would you humor your mother's request?" She asks.

He inclines his head, soaking in the silence. The screams outside have stopped moments ago. “You wish for me to find him a guardian.” 

The human guard decides this is her moment to speak. “I’m more than capable of protecting the young lord,” she states, narrowing her eyes.

“As is evident by the castle’s state,” he observes dryly. 

The guard bristles. "Better than letting a demon like you take him!"

His mother sighs as if this was something she had heard multiple times. The midwife looks ready to faint. 

He gives the guard an unimpressed look. "If words like that spew from your mouth, then perhaps you should think twice about raising a half-demon child."

The guard looks as if she'd been slapped. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Of course," he says mockingly. "It means nothing." As it always does. "What other meaningless words have you said about your lord’s wife?" 

"You-!"

"Impa," his mother starts, giving the human guard a firm look. "Enough."

The guard, Impa, looks ready to snap at his mother as well. And he's disappointed that she finds sense to quell her temper. Did she realize that now that her lord was gone, his wife would be the next she must obey? Or was she going to say something uncouth again?

"Please," his mother says, snapping him out of his thoughts. "That's all I ask."

Please. And that word makes his back twinge. His mother has never pleaded. She demands. Even as a child she has never been anything but an immovable presence that demands (perfection and power).

He looks away. Ignoring his mother cuddling the babe close, pretending he doesn't hear her soft coos and whispers of love to his tiny ears.

"Fine," he bites out, anger simmering in his blood. Ridiculous, all of this was ridiculous. If she had followed what she always said, about never letting the heart rule you, then she wouldn't have been in this situation. She wouldn't have let another half-child enter this world. 

It would be a mercy to let this one die.

But he would give her this. The last thing he'll ever do for her. He'll make sure the child will live. 

He would have done it without his mother's words. As clan head (and he might as well be, it’s only his mother’s stubborn will that she lasted this long), it's his responsibility to make sure none with their blood will become a stain to their reputation. 

He is not like humans, cowardly enough to kill an infant. Let the child grow up and make his own sins, then he will deem him worthy of living or not.

"Gather all the items he needs," he orders the midwife. "We will go to Western Hyrule."

Impa opens her mouth to protest.

"Do you have any other ideas?" He asks coolly, wondering if he could slice these humans and be done with it. "My clan, at least, is used to the concept of-" Mongrels. "-half lineages, they will not set their lord's castle ablaze." 

They will be fools to try.

He turns, not waiting for her reply. "I will take one last look at the castle, see if there is anything of use for the child." Away from his mother and her contemplative gaze. Away from her aura that fades bit by bit. Away from the emotions that he had locked up tight centuries ago. "Be prepared once I get back."

The sooner they leave, the better.

_Do you have someone that you love?_

No, he thinks acidly. And he never will. Love takes. Kills. Creates half-life that will live in misery, fed with words that “meant nothing”. Spews lies that assure fools that the pain is worth it.

(His back twinges again.)

He wants nothing to do with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, nay, or meh?
> 
> Guess who's who.


End file.
